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I’ve got quite a treat MixTape here for you as this one features a triple-play by Hamilton Leithauser: first there’s “We Can’t Be Beat” from the last album by his always fantastic group The Walkmen, 2012’s Heaven; then there’s a selection from Leithauser’s2014 debut solo studio album, Black Hours; and finally there’s the song “When The Truth Is…” from last year’s stunning record I Had a Dream That You Were Mine, which is a collaborative work with Rostam Batmanglij (the former multi-instrumentalist and producer of Vampire Weekend).

You’ll also hear Aretha Franklin, some Beastie Boys, the lovely “Rainbows In Gasoline” by the duo of Sean Lennon and Charlotte Kemp Muhl who record together under the moniker of The Ghost of a Saber Tooth Tiger (or GOASTT), and a fine example of why John Lennon was one of the greatest of rock ‘n’ roll vocalists with The Beatles‘ tune “All I’ve Got To Do.”

As well, there are two selections from the Parliament-Funkadelic collective: first there’s a cover of The Beatles by incendiary yet so sweet guitarist Eddie Hazel from his 1977 solo debut Game, Dames and Guitar Thangs, which features incredible vocals by The Brides of Funkenstein (the duo of Dawn Silva and Lynn Mabry, who prior to joining the P-Funk collective were members of Sly and the Family Stone); later on you’ll catch the revolving, kaleidoscopic groove of “Supergroovalisticprosifunkstication” from Parliament‘s 1975 masterpiece, Mothership Connection.

Oh and I can’t forget to mention the rendition of Magic Sam‘s “All Of YourLove” done with grit and precision by The Rolling Stones and taken from their joyous record of blues covers released at the end of last year, Blue & Lonesome.

Among a whole bunch of other great sounds this mix also features two figures who are perhaps the most poetic recording artists of Uruguayan music: Jaime Roos and Eduardo Mateo. The song “Viviendo” is from Roos’ third record, Aquello released in 1981. There is a translation done by my father below for those that are interested:

Viviendo (Living) by Jaime Roos [translated by Julio Calero]

I remember you

You’re the One

Who could understand it

No big deal

That we do not love each other

You could understand it

.

Friend, where abouts may you be?

What seas may you be sailing?

Soon we’ll cross paths

And I’ll find you

Living

You’ll find me

Living

.

You’ll hear

The world was

And will be a marvel, I already know

It could be

My voice

Coming out of a nightmare that’s gone

.

Friend, where abouts may you be?

What seas may you be sailing?

Soon we’ll cross paths

And I’ll find you

Living

where abouts may you be?

Living

Alone, perhaps

Living

Throughout his long career Jaime Roos has continued to make an interesting mix of rock and folk with the more traditional sounds of Uruguay like candombe, milonga, tango and murga. He’s still out there performing and I highly recommend that if you ever have the opportunity you should definitely catch his show!

EduardoMateo‘s “Niña” isa sweet tune done by a pure musician, and its recording comes with an interesting story. By the time Mateo’s phenomenal band El Kinto had officially disintegrated in the early part of 1970 most of Mateo’s friends and associates were already convinced that he had gone completely insane. Despite the fact that these same people viewed him as a musical genius, they did not know what to make of his habits of disappearing for days at a time, either to lock himself up somewhere in a rented room to explore new realms on his instrument while searching for spiritual enlightenment through chemicals, or to wander the streets with nothing but pajamas and a guitar—there was always a guitar, a rare constant in this man’s unhinged life. Once, my uncle saw him walking the streets at night with one foot aligned with the curb, the other with the gutter, so that he was forced to maintain an awkward and drastic limp to his gait—how’s that for a metaphor?!

Speaking of this period in Mateo’s life, Uruguayan singer Verónica Indart had this story to tell:

“The last time I saw him was in the first years of the 1970s. I was

with Héctor, my husband, and Mateo arrived. He entered, he took

up the guitar, and he sat down to play by the window, looking at the

sea for a long while. We listened to him. When he finished, he got up,

he set down the guitar and he went out the door without a greeting.

That was Mateo. He arrived, gave us his music and went on without

greeting us, because it was not necessary” (Lion Production, 2006).

In 1971, for those who were fortunate to have heard Mateo play there was no doubt of that man’s overwhelming talent—mental illness or not; however, beyond a handful of tracks there existed little recorded evidence of it. This would soon change due to the influence of talented singer Diane Denoir, and through the dedication and passion of producer Carlos Píriz. Píriz, a recording technician who had worked for the live, music television show Discodromo had recently started the record label De la Planta along with Jorge “Coyo” Abuchalja, guitarist for the group Los Delfines. The ethos behind this venture was to maintain a Uruguayan label that was dedicated to Uruguayan musicians, providing them with better production, recording techniques, and better distribution than the then norm. Fortunately, through Píriz’s connections, they were able to secure regular studio time at ION Studios in Buenos Aires, Argentina, where the recording technology was far superior to that found in their native country (four tracks as opposed to two at most, for example).

In October of 1971 one such artist they chose to present to the public was the singer Diane Denoir. As she was recording a fair amount of Mateo’s material for her De la Planta debut, she felt it was only appropriate that the artist himself accompany her on some of the tracks. Having convinced Mateo to take the trip, Píriz quickly took advantage of the rare opportunity by persuading him to stay and record a solo LP for the label. However, in spite of Píriz’s optimistic plans to complete the recording in one week, he soon found that dealing with this erratic artist would be an ultimate test of endurance and patience.

The sessions went like this: Mateo had an alphabetic notebook,

and stuck in each page he had bar napkins upon which his songs

were written. If he knew the first letter of the title of the song he

wished to play, he would find the correct napkin, which would help

him remember the melody, so that he could recreate the original idea

he had envisioned when he had composed the song in the first place.

Remembering the songs was only the first obstacle […]. Mateo

would record songs one day, and erase them the next. “The first day

he recorded three or four things,” Píriz recalled. “The following day

he came in and said, ‘erase them. For Mateo, they are all wrong.’

We erased them. And that process of erasing the previous day’s work

continued for four or five days. At that moment, I understood that this

would be the system for the whole disc […]. I decided that I will be the

person who says what was well-recorded, or not, and I began to keep

all the material.”

On other days, Mateo went to ION studios only to say that he was not

inspired, and would return the next day. Then there were the days that

he appeared at the studio, and asked, “What time do we record tomorrow?”

“The same as today, at four o’clock,” Píriz would say. “Okay I am going,

until tomorrow,” was Mateo’s only reply (Lion Production, 2006).

–

This whole arduous process continued for two months, until one day when Mateo said to the producer that he was stepping out of the studio to buy a pack of cigarettes, and never came back. He had returned to his streets in Montevideo. Píriz was left holding hours of recordings of these fragmented sessions—the only proof that Mateo had even been there. A labor of love, Píriz would then spend the better part of a year assembling these into the album that would be released in December of 1972: Mateo Solo Bien Se Lame.

One of the thirteen brilliant compositions that Píriz extracted from the chaos is the twisted beauty that is “Niña.” Through his dedication, Píriz was able to capture on this record the complex sensitivity of this troubled artist. Seeing as how, other than a rare background vocal here and there, Mateo created every sound on this album himself, his essence truly shines through each composition. There is a translation of the lyrics done by me below:

Niña (Little Girl) by Eduardo Mateo [translated by Bobby Calero]

Little girl that always has a light

showing you what you do not want.

–

Do not fear the birds

if they say your life with their trills.

–

It should be that you understand;

that’s why what comes next is what has gone.

–

Always in a white dress,

you go but beware;

–

The devils in the guise of angels

will notice you talking.

–

Does it shame you that you don’t care

what has been soiled?

–

Yuu…yu-le-lé yu-lé.

__

If you dig the mix then please feel free to pass & post it along; if you dig an artist then please support them and go out and pick up some of their stuff. Oh, If you dig the blog overall there’s always the “FOLLOW BLOG VIA EMAIL” button somewhere down at the bottom

All the best to you and yours!— – ————-______-________ ->BOBBY CALERO[—+=-_________________If you dig the mix then please feel free to pass & post it along; if you dig an artist then please support them and go out and pick up some of their stuff. Oh, If you dig the blog overall there’s always the “FOLLOW BLOG VIA EMAIL” button somewhere down at the bottom.